She remembered the first time she’d met him, a cowboy in faded jeans.

His smile had put her teenage heart into overdrive. She’d spent the next year wrapped in daydreams of a guy that she’d been afraid to talk to.

In search of her aunt, she finally spotted Janie, standing at the edge of the crowd at the rodeo. Next to her was a man Willow didn’t recognize. This man wore a bent-up cowboy hat. The strong angles of his jaw proved he was no longer a kid.

Willow joined her aunt and Clint Cameron. He took off his hat, revealing sandy blond hair, a five o’clock shadow and a slow, easy grin.

He wasn’t a gangly teen anymore. And her heart still did that funny dance when he smiled at her. As a girl, she hadn’t known what to do with that reaction. Now she carefully tamped it down, because she didn’t need complications to her already complicated life.

MILLS & BOON

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BRENDA MINTON

started creating stories to entertain herself during hour-long rides on the school bus. In high school she wrote romance novels to entertain her friends. The dream grew and so did her aspirations to become an author. She started with notebooks, handwritten manuscripts and characters that refused to go away until their stories were told. Eventually she put away the pen and paper and got down to business with the computer. The journey took a few years, with some encouragement and rejection along the way—as well as a lot of stubbornness on her part. In 2006, her dream to write for Steeple Hill Books Love Inspired line came true.

Brenda lives in the rural Ozarks with her husband, three kids and an abundance of cats and dogs. She enjoys a chaotic life that she wouldn’t trade for anything—except, on occasion, a beach house in Texas. You can stop by and visit at her Web site, www.brendaminton.net.

A Cowboy’s Heart
Brenda Minton

The Lord is my strength and my song, He has

become my salvation: He is my God, and I will

praise Him. My father’s God, and I will exalt Him.

—Exodus 15:2

To my sister Ellen Benham and my brother-in-law

Gary. This is dedicated to you, for computers,

for weekends away and for friendship.

To Doug and the kids, because they love me,

even during a deadline crunch.

And of course to Melissa Endlich and Janet Benrey.

Without their encouragement and belief in my

stories, I’d still be piling unpublished manuscripts

in the closet.

To faithful and true friends, strong women all,

without whom my phone batteries would always

be charged, and I’d be a blob of insecurity. Thank

you for listening, for reading and for always being

there for me. Steph, Shirlee, Angela, Tonya, Dawn,

Barbara, Betty, Janice, Lori W and Keri.

For my number-one fan, Denise Foster Dickens.

And Josie, for dinner, and for being the most

amazing neighbor ever.

To the girls at the Marionville, MO, library for

support and encouragement.

A deep debt of gratitude to Janet McCoy, for

answering questions and sharing stories.

To all of the women who struggle, hold on

to faith and never give up. Especially to

my new sister-in-Christ, Shirley.

You are strong and beautiful.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Country music crackled from aging PA speakers that hung from the announcer’s stand next to the rodeo arena, and dozens of conversations buzzed around Willow Michaels. It was hard to discern one sound from another, and harder still to know if the queasy nervousness in her stomach was due to her bulls about to compete, or the way sounds faded in and out.

A hand touched her arm. She smiled at her aunt Janie, who had insisted on attending with her, because it was a short drive from home, and well, because Aunt Janie went nearly everywhere that Willow went.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Janie asked.

“Of course I did.”

“No, you didn’t. I’ve asked you the same thing three times.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just distracted.” Willow slid her finger up the back of her ear. The hearing aid was at its maximum. And Janie was waiting for an answer that Willow didn’t have.

“I said, I have a friend I want you to meet.” Janie searched Willow’s face, her growing concern evident in her eyes.

“Don’t, Janie, please don’t give me that look. It’s the batteries, nothing more.”

“Make an appointment with your doctor.”

“Who’s the friend?” Willow went back to the previous conversation. At that moment, even if it meant meeting a man, Willow wanted to avoid discussing the fact that she hadn’t heard her aunt. Discussing it would only make her deteriorating hearing more real.

“My old neighbor, Clint Cameron, is here.”

“Clint?” Not a stranger, but a forgotten crush. Willow remembered now, and she didn’t want to remember.

She was too old for high-school crushes, and she had experienced too much heartache to go back to being that girl who dreamed of forever.

Her marriage to Brad Michaels had been a hard lesson in reality. Willow was still forgiving him and still letting go of her own forever-dreams that had ended five years ago, with divorce.

She was still forgetting, and still healing.

She was still finding faith, a faith that had been a whisper of something intangible for most of her life. Now it was real and sustaining. Somewhere along the road she had realized that she wasn’t flawed, and she didn’t have to be perfect.

Janie touched her arm again. “Are you with me?”

“I’m with you.”

“It won’t hurt, Willow.”

“You think?”

Janie laughed, “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

“Of course it won’t. I’m just amazed that I unloaded the bulls, fed them, and you found a friend.”

“The Lord works…”

“In mysterious ways.” Willow wanted to sigh. Instead she smiled for her aunt. “Okay, let me make sure my bulls have water, and I’ll come find you.”

“Good.” Janie smiled a little too big. “He’s parked on the other side of the pens.”

Willow waited until Janie walked away and then started toward the pens that held her bulls. If she had any sense at all, she would hide and avoid meeting Clint Cameron for a second time. The first meeting had been a pretty big disaster.

The bulls milled around their pen, big animals with flies swarming their thick hides. They stomped in an effort to rid themselves of the flying pests, big hooves sloshing in the mud left behind after last night’s rain.

Willow leaned against the metal gate, needing that moment to pull it together, to let go of fear. The water trough was full—taking her last option for avoiding Janie and her friend.

She had accomplished a lot in the last few years. She’d made it in a man’s world, raising some of the best bucking bulls in the country and supplying stock for some of the biggest bull-riding events in the world.

She had survived Brad’s rejection. His rejection had hurt worse than the ones that came before him. She’d really thought that he meant their marriage vows.

He hadn’t. He hadn’t meant it when he repeated “in sickness and in health,” or “till death do us part.” He hadn’t meant it when he said she was the only woman for him.

Willow watched her bulls for a few more minutes, and then she turned to go in search of her aunt and Clint Cameron.

She remembered the first time she’d met him, a cowboy in faded jeans, torn at the knees. She remembered a smile that had put her teenage dreams of forever into overdrive. She’d spent the next year wrapped in daydreams of a guy that she’d been afraid to talk to.

In search of Janie, she made her way through the crowd, greeting a few people who called out or waved. Bulls were being run through the gates of the nearest pens to the chutes where the riders would climb on for the ride of their lives. A few men were getting bull ropes ready for their rides.

She finally spotted her aunt. Janie stood at the edge of the crowd. Next to her was a man Willow didn’t recognize. He looked nothing like the blurred memory of a gangly teen with faded jeans and a stained T-shirt. This man wore a bent-up cowboy hat with the faded imprint of a hoof. The strong angles of his jaw proved he was no longer a kid.

His Kevlar vest, worn to protect his torso from the horns—or hooves—of an angry bull, was open, exposing a pale-blue paisley shirt. Tan leather chaps covered his jean-clad legs, brushing the tops of his boots. As Willow approached, he bent to catch something her aunt was saying.

Janie waved, motioning her forward. Willow waved back, reminding herself that she was stronger now than she’d ever been. But feeling strong when faced with a childhood dream wasn’t as easy as she’d thought it would be. Especially when the dream was now a flesh-and-blood man with a wide smile and his arm wrapped protectively around her aunt.

Willow reached down deep and found strength, reminding herself that her new dream wasn’t about happy-ever-after with a man. Her goals were now being achieved with a truck-load of bulls and success in the sport of bull riding.

But she wondered if he remembered her. Did he remember how she had said hello some sixteen years earlier, and then disappeared into Janie’s house to watch from the window? He had spotted her there, waving when no one was watching. Even now the memory brought a flush of heat to her cheeks.

Willow took the last ten steps, joining her aunt and Clint Cameron. He took off his hat, revealing sandy blond hair that looked like it had been cut with electric clippers. Probably in front of a hotel mirror.

He should have used the clippers on his face. His five o’clock shadow was a day old, covering his suntanned cheeks and highlighting a mouth that turned in a slow, easy grin. Gray eyes, laugh lines crinkling at the corners, connected with hers.

On his off days he probably modeled for a cologne company with a typical western name—something like Prairie Wind or Naughty Pine. She smiled, trying hard not to look at the names of his sponsors, for fear she’d actually see Naughty Pine emblazoned on his sleeve or collar.

He wasn’t a gangly teen anymore. And her heart still did that funny dance when he smiled at her. As a girl, not quite fourteen, she hadn’t known what to do with that reaction. Now she carefully stomped it down, because she didn’t need complications.

“Willow, this is my old neighbor, Clint Cameron.”

He held out a hand and Willow let him take hers in a handshake that meant his fingers clasping around hers, holding tight for just a moment before releasing.

“Nice to meet you, Clint.” Maybe he wouldn’t remember her, the awkward kid who had stumbled through a greeting and then hurried back to the house.

He did, though. She could see it in his eyes. He smiled, revealing a tiny dimple in his left cheek that could have been a scar.

“Nice to meet you again, Willow.”

“Clint’s moving home. He’s going to remodel his old farm house.” Janie’s eyes went liquid for a moment, and Willow knew what this meant to her aunt, to have someone back who had meant so much to her. “And he’s made the points to ride in bigger events.”

“Congratulations.” Willow smiled, and then took a step back. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you around.”

Janie caught her arm, stopping the perfectly planned escape. “I told Clint we might have some work for him to do. You know, I’m not getting any younger. It wouldn’t hurt to have an extra pair of hands around the place.”

“We can talk about that, Janie.” Willow smiled at Clint Cameron. His gray eyes twinkled, and he saluted her with a tip of his hat as he put it back on his head, pushing it into place.

“If you don’t have a lot for me to do, that’s fine.” He shrugged, like he really meant it. “I’m going to be working on our old farm down the road from you, getting it fit to live in.”

“We’ll work something out.”

Clint Cameron smiled again, and Willow felt a twinge of regret, because she no longer believed in happy-ever-after with a cowboy.

Those dreams had faded a long time ago, victims of rejection and reality.

As Willow Michaels walked away, Clint drew in a deep breath and did his best not to whistle in surprise. He’d heard all about the tall stock contractor with the long, honey-blond hair and eyes the color of a clear spring sky.

Meeting her changed everything, though. He hadn’t been prepared for a woman as cool and detached as a barn cat, the kind that didn’t care if you paid attention to it or not.

He hadn’t been prepared for the girl he’d met years ago, now a woman. What a woman.

“Don’t let her scare you off, Clint. She’s had a tough time of it, but she’s coming around.”

He smiled down at Janie. She’d been about the closest thing he’d ever had to a mother. His own mother had died when he was barely eleven and his sister was seven. He’d been left to raise Jenna by himself, and to deal with their drunken father.

Janie had been there to keep the pieces together.

She’d done the most important thing of all: she’d taught him to have faith. She’d also taught him to believe in himself. If it hadn’t been for her he wouldn’t have gone to college. He might have ended up just like his dad.

Janie had a new project. She was fixing her niece, Willow. Will for short, or so he’d heard. He couldn’t imagine calling her Will.

“I should go. I’m one of the first riders up.” He shifted away from Janie, but she caught hold of his arm.

“Think about what I asked you, Clint.”

“Have you even told Willow that you want to move to Florida?”

Janie shook her head. “No, not yet. This business means so much to her. I’ve been putting off my decision because I was afraid Willow would give it up on my account. I don’t want her to think she has to sell her bulls. If she had someone else she could comfortably rely on, the transition would be easier.”

“I don’t think she’d appreciate you trying to arrange her life this way. And I’m not going to push myself off on her, Janie. She’s proven herself in this business, and I think she’ll handle making this decision on her own.”

He softened the words with a smile, because he didn’t want to hurt Janie, the woman who had fixed a broken teenager, helping him to believe in himself. She wanted to do the same thing for her niece.

But Clint didn’t plan on pushing his way into a life that had more Do Not Enter signs than a mine field.

Relationships weren’t his strong suit. A long time ago he’d realized that he had a habit of choosing girls, and then women, who needed to be fixed in some way. Not that he thought Willow Michaels needed to be fixed. He just wasn’t taking chances.

Not only that, but she was way out of his league. Another aspect in relationships that clearly didn’t work.

He scanned the crowd and spotted Willow in a line for the hamburger stand that was a fundraiser for the National Future Farmers of America Organization. The aroma of grilled burgers drifted, and had lured a long line of people. Willow stood next to another stock contractor, her expression animated as they carried on a conversation.

He couldn’t help but smile.

“You know, Janie, I have a feeling that Willow is a stronger person than you think.”

“Of course she is, but she can’t drive these bulls all over the country without some help.”

“Seems to me that she can.”

Janie smiled, her soft brown eyes twinkling. “Clint Cameron, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to put me in my place.”

“I’m only saying that I don’t know your niece, but I have a feeling she can handle things.” He fastened his Kevlar vest as he spoke. “If you want to move, Janie, you just need to tell her.”

Janie laughed, “You should have come home more often. I’ve missed having someone around who wasn’t afraid of me.”

“I had a job.”

“Working down there on those oil rigs in the Gulf. What kind of job is that for a country boy who wants to ride bulls and raise cows?”

“It paid the bills. It put money in the bank.” Money meant for repairs on a farm that had gone downhill.

“Well, I know it was good honest work. I’m only saying that I missed you.”

Clint leaned and kissed her powdery soft cheek. “I missed you, too.”

“You go ride that bull. But be careful. We need you in one piece.”

Clint laughed as he walked away. He laughed because Miss Janie had always had a knack for drama. It was a strange trait for a sensible woman.

As he threaded his way through the men standing near the chutes where the first few bulls were penned up and ready for their rides, he caught sight of Willow. She stood near a small group of people, her gaze concentrating on their faces as she read their lips. She nodded at something one of the men said and then she shifted her attention, focusing on Clint. Like she’d felt him staring. And for that moment, he couldn’t look away.

He nearly ran into one of the event judges. The guy grabbed his arm and shot him a look.

“Sorry about that,” Clint mumbled as he lifted his bull rope and continued moving through the crowd.

“You’re up, Cameron.” One of the men motioned him forward.

The MC in the announcer’s stand gave the name of the next bull and followed that with Clint’s name and a little information on his career. Of course they just had to mention that he was thirty-one, a late bloomer for bull riding.

He’d been at the sport for as long as he could remember. He just hadn’t had the time to invest into making it a career. That didn’t interest the crowd. They wanted to think about the old guy, the newcomer. Even in bull riding the fans wanted a Cinderella story.

Clint slid onto the back of a big old bull, one that he’d come up against before. Part Brahma and part Angus, the bull had a mean streak a mile wide.

A warm night in May didn’t make the bull any nicer. The animal slid to his knees and then back up again, leaning to the left and pushing Clint’s leg against the side of the chute.

One of the other riders, a guy named Mike, pulled the bull rope and handed it to Clint. Clint rubbed rosin up and down the rope and then wrapped it around his gloved riding hand. The bull lurched forward and someone grabbed the back of Clint’s shirt, keeping his head from bashing into the metal gate in front of him. The animal shook its head and flung white foam across Clint’s face.

Clint leaned forward, the heaving, fifteen-hundred-pound animal moving beneath him. Fear in the guise of adrenaline shot through his veins, pumping his heart into overdrive. The bull calmed down for a brief moment, and Clint nodded.

The gate opened, and the bull made a spinning jump out of the chute, knocking his back end against the corner and sending Clint headfirst toward the animal’s horns. With his free arm in the air, whipping back for control, Clint moved himself back to center.

Eight seconds, and he felt every twist, every jump, every lurch. As the buzzer rang, Clint dived off for safety, not expecting the last-minute direction change that the bull added in for fun. Clint hit the ground, and the impact felt like hitting a truck. A loud pop echoed in his ears, and pain shot from his shoulder down his arm.

The bull turned and charged at him. He rolled away, but he couldn’t escape the rampaging animal, its hot breath in Clint’s face and the hammering of its hooves against solid-packed dirt.

That big old bull was face-to-face with him, pawing and twisting. Clint rolled away from the hooves and then felt a hard tug as someone jerked him backward, away from danger.

The bullfighter yelled at him to move. Clint did his best to oblige, but his left arm hung at his side, useless. The pop he’d heard when he hit the ground must have been his shoulder dislocating.

A blur of blue in front of him, and the bull changed direction to go after the bullfighter. Those guys were bodyguards and stuntmen, all in one package. Clint hurried to the side of the arena and the fence.

As he held on to the fence, watching the bullfighters play with the overzealous bull, he caught a flash of blond. He turned and saw Willow Michaels watching from the corner gate.

When he limped out of the arena, his eyes met hers for a split second and then she walked away. She wasn’t the first princess to turn her back on him. She probably wouldn’t be the last.

Telling himself it didn’t matter didn’t feel as good as it usually did. Fortunately he had the throbbing pain in his arm to keep his mind off the blow to his ego.

Medics were waiting for him as he walked out the gate. They offered help walking that he didn’t need. He’d dislocated his shoulder before, so he knew the drill. He just didn’t feel like talking about it.

“Want some help getting in?” One of the paramedics motioned inside the back of the vehicle.

“I’ll just sit on the tailgate.” He had no desire to climb, with or without help.

“Suit yourself.”

He leaned back and just as he started to close his eyes, Janie was there. She wore that “mother hen” look that he remembered from his childhood.

It was a shame she’d never had kids of her own. But then he might have missed out on having her in his life.

“Is it dislocated?” She nearly pushed the paramedics aside.

“I imagine it is.” He managed a smile that he hoped wasn’t too much of a grimace.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“I think the paramedics can manage.”

Janie didn’t look convinced. She was five-foot-nothing but a force to be reckoned with. Funny how she hadn’t really aged.

Not like his dad. His dad was barely sixty-five, but already an old, old man. His liver was shot, and his mind was going. Janie would always have her wits about her.

“Don’t let him sit there and suffer.” She stepped back, and motioned the paramedics forward.

She had no idea about suffering. The pain he had felt just sitting there was nothing compared to that moment when they yanked his arm and pushed it back into its socket. Working through it meant a serious “cowboy up” moment. He took a few deep breaths that didn’t really help.

“There, nothing to it.” One paramedic smiled as he said the words.

“Yeah, nothing to it.” Clint shrugged to loosen the muscle, but the pain shot down his arm and across his back.

“It’ll be sore, and I’m afraid there might be more damage than just the dislocation. Best get it checked out with the sports medicine team. Until then,” he held out a sling, “pain meds, and you might want to get a ride home tonight.”

A ride home? For the first time in a dozen years a “ride home” meant a ride to Grove, Oklahoma. And now it meant Willow Michaels living just down the road. He couldn’t quite picture her as the “girl next door.”

Chapter Two

In the midnight-black of the truck, lit only with the red-and-orange glow from the dash, Willow nudged at the cowboy sleeping in the seat next to her. They’d driven the two hours from Tulsa and were getting close to the ranch. Janie hadn’t helped. She had fallen asleep shortly after they’d taken off.

“Wake up.” She nudged Clint again, careful to hit his ribs, not the arm held against his chest with a sling. “Do you have a key to get into this place?”

He stirred, brushed a hand through hair that wasn’t long enough to get messy and then yawned. He blinked a few times and looked at her like he couldn’t quite remember who she was.

“Willow Michaels, remember? We offered you a ride home?”

He nodded and then he shook his head. “I don’t know.”

She didn’t hear the rest because he yawned and covered his mouth. Moments like this were not easy for her, not in the dark cab of a truck, not with someone she didn’t really know.

He said something else that she didn’t catch. Willow sighed because it wasn’t fair, and she didn’t want to have this conversation with him.

This kind of insecurity belonged to a ten-year-old girl saying goodbye to her parents and wondering why they no longer wanted her with them. And always assuming that it was because her hearing loss embarrassed them.

He said something else that she didn’t catch.

“Clint, you have to talk more clearly. I can’t see you, and I don’t know what you’re saying.”

There, it was said, and she’d survived. But it ached deep down, where her confidence should have been but wasn’t.

He looked at her, his smile apologetic as he reached to turn on the overhead light. The dim glow undid her calm, because the look in his eyes touched something deep inside. Wow, she really wanted to believe in fairy tales.

SORRY.

And when he signed the word, his hand a fist circling over his chest, she didn’t know how to react. But she recognized what she felt—unnerved and taken by surprise. When was the last time a cowboy had taken her by surprise?

She cleared her throat and nodded. And then she answered, because he was waiting.

“It isn’t your fault. It’s dark, and you didn’t know.”

How did he know sign language, and how did he know that it made hearing him so much easier? Even with hearing aids, being in the dark made understanding a muffled voice difficult—especially with the diesel engine of the truck.

“I know it isn’t my fault, but I should have thought.” He shifted in the seat, turning to face her as he spoke. “I’m sorry, I’m not quite awake.”

“About the house?”

“I don’t need a key to the house.”

“Aunt Janie, you should wake up now.” Willow downshifted as they drove through the small almost-town that they lived near. Grove was another fifteen miles farther down the road, but it was easier to say they were from Grove than to give the name of a town with no population and no dot on the map. Dawson, population 10, on a good day. The town boasted a feed store and, well, nothing else.

“Janie, wake up.” Willow leaned to look at her aunt.

Janie snorted but then started to snore again. The vibration of Clint’s laughter shook the seat. Willow shot him a look, and then she smiled. He had used sign language—that meant she had to give him a break.

She was still trying to wrap her mind around that fact. It had been a long time since someone had done something like that for her. Something unexpected.

“Where did you learn sign language?”

He shrugged. “I picked it up in college. I have a teaching degree, and I thought sign language would be a great second language. Everyone else was studying Spanish, French or German.”

He signed as he spoke, and Willow nodded. She reached to shift again as the speed limit decreased.

“I’m rusty, so you’ll have to excuse me if I say the wrong thing.”

“You’re fine.” And the sooner she dropped him off at the little house surrounded by weeds and rusted-out trucks, the sooner she could get back to her world and to thoughts that were less confusing.

The driveway to his place was barely discernable, just a dirt path mixed in with weeds and one broken reflector to show where it was safe to turn. She slowed, not sure what to do. The trailer hooked to her truck jolted a little as the vehicle decelerated and the bulls shifted, restless for home.

“Don’t pull in. You won’t be able to turn the truck.”

She agreed with him on that. She didn’t have a desire to get stuck or to have a flat tire. Not with a load of homesick bulls in a stock trailer hooked to the back of her truck.

“But what are you going to do about tonight? Do you even have electricity?”

“I dropped off flashlights and a few other necessities this morning. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” In the light of the cab he had stopped signing, but he spoke facing her.

The snoring from the far side of the cab had stopped. Aunt Janie sat up, yawning. “Clint, don’t tell me you plan on staying here tonight?”

“There isn’t that much night left, Janie. I’ll be fine. Take Willow home, and get some rest. She’s got to be tired after the day you two put in.”

“You’ve had a long day, too.” Willow pushed aside something that felt like anger, but maybe came from leftover feelings of inadequacy.

It had more to do with the past than with the present. It had to do with Brad telling their limo driver to take her home while he went into town, to a party that would have been too stressful for her to attend.

Alone. She’d always been at home alone. And she’d been sent away when she failed to meet expectations. The past, she reminded herself. It was all in the past and God had restored her life, showing her that she didn’t belong in a corner alone.

She mattered to God. He had given her an inner peace and the ability to believe in herself.

“You’re right about that.” He stood in the open door, holding Janie’s hand as she got back into the truck. “You two have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. When he would invade her life. Willow couldn’t really thank him for that, not if he was going to be another person who found it easy to believe her hearing loss meant she couldn’t take care of herself.

Clint woke up after a short few hours of sleep, stiff and sore, his arm throbbing against his chest. He rolled over on the sleeping bag and stared out the cobweb-covered window, so dirty that it might as well have had a curtain covering it. His savings account had seemed more than enough until he got a good look at this place.

Six months since his last visit home and two years since he’d been in this house. It looked like the dust had been there since then, or before. Not to mention his dad’s old truck, tires flat and the frame rusting, growing weeds at the side of the house.

His dad had moved to a house in town two years earlier, and then to the nursing home. It hadn’t been easy, putting him there, knowing he needed full-time care.

Clint’s phone rang, and he reached for it, dragging it to his ear as he flipped it open. His sister said a soft hello.

“You sound bad. Do you look bad?” She laughed when he groaned an answer.

“Other than a dislocated shoulder, I had a great night.”

“Sounds like fun. I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Wait until you come down for a visit. Janie is still Janie. And her niece is living here.”

“The one that used to visit in the summer?”

“The one and only.”

“Is she still beautiful?” She was determined to see him married off.

“If you like tall, blond and gorgeous, she’s okay.” He rubbed his hand across his face, trying to rub the sleep away. “She isn’t my type.”

“Have you ever found your type?”

“Nope. I’m happily single.”

“I don’t think so, brother dear. I think you need a woman to soften your rough edges. You need someone who will take care of you, the way you’ve taken care of everyone else.”

“I don’t have rough edges. So, what’s up, Sis?”

He knew there was more to this call. He thought he might need to sit up, because the tone of her voice, even with the laughter, hinted at bad news. Holding the phone with his ear, he pushed himself up with his right hand and then slid back against the box of supplies he left here yesterday.

“What’s up, Jen?”

A long pause and he thought he heard her sob. He didn’t hear the boys, his twin nephews, in the background. His stomach tightened.

“Time to put our Family Action Plan into place. I’m going to Iraq.”

Not that. He could have prepared himself for almost anything, but not the thought of his kid sister in Iraq. And the boys, just four years old, without a mom. He couldn’t think about that, either. They had discussed it some. He had just convinced himself it wouldn’t come to this—to her leaving and the boys in his care.

“Clint, I need for you to take the boys.”

“You know I will. But there has to be someone better for them than me, an uncle who rides bulls for a living and who’s camping in a house without electricity.” For the moment.

“You’re it. You’re my only family, their only family. You knew this could happen.”

“I want to make sure this is the best thing for them, that I’m the best thing.”

“You were the best for me.”

He closed his eyes, wishing he had been the best for her, and that he’d been able to give her more. He’d done his best. They both knew that.

“When?”

“I have to leave for Texas in five days. I’ve known for a while, but I guess I was hoping that something would happen and I wouldn’t have to leave them.” She sobbed into the phone. “Clint, they’re my babies.”

“I know, Jen. And you know I’ll take care of them.”

“If something happens…”

“We’re not going to discuss that. But you know I love them and I’m going to take care of them until you get home.”

She was crying, hundreds of miles away at a base in Missouri. She was crying, and he couldn’t make it better. Sleeping under this roof, in this room, he remembered the other nights she had cried, when they had been kids, and he’d sneaked in to comfort her, to promise he’d make it better.

He had prayed, and she had doubted God even existed.

“I can’t make this better, Jen.”

“You do make it better.” She sniffled, her tears obviously over. “Clint, the Army has been good for me, you know that. And I’m ready to go. I know that I have to go.”

“But it won’t be easy.”

“It’s easier knowing that you’ll have Timmy and David.”

“Do you want to bring them here, or should I come to you?”

A long pause, and he heard the sob she tried to swallow. “I want to see Dad before I go.”

He looked out the dirt-covered window at the tree branch scraping against the glass, forced into movement by the wind. “Yes, you should see him. And it would probably be better for them if you got them settled here.”

“I’ll be down in two days,” she whispered, and he knew she was crying. And he felt a lot like he might cry, too.

How was he going to let his little sister go to war, and how was he going to take care of two four-year-old boys? And then there was Willow, added by Janie to the list of people who needed his help.

Covered with dust and bits of hay, Willow walked to the door of the barn to see what the dog, Bell, was barking at. Of course it was Clint Cameron walking down the drive, a tall figure in faded jeans and a blue-gray T-shirt. A baseball cap shaded his face and his arm was still in a sling. She shook her head. Cowboys.

She brushed her hands through her hair and shook the hem of her shirt to rid herself of the hay that had dropped down her neck. Clint didn’t spot her. As he walked up the steps to the house, Willow turned back into the barn.

She tossed a few more bales of hay into the back of her truck and cut the wires that held them together. A quick glance at the sky confirmed her suspicions that a spring storm was heading their way. The temperature had dropped ten degrees, dark clouds loomed on the horizon and the leaves of the trees had turned, exposing the underside. A sure sign of rain.

Before the rain hit, she needed to feed her animals. Cattle and horses were waiting and the bulls were bellowing from their pens because they knew it was breakfast time. She opened the feed-room door and stepped inside. The tabby cat that lived in the barn scooted inside and sniffed around in the corners of the room, looking for mice.

Willow grabbed a fifty-pound bag of grain off the pile and carried it out of the room. As she lifted, preparing to drop it into the back of the truck, Clint stepped through the open double doors of the barn and walked toward her.

She dropped the bag of grain into the back and returned to the feed room. When she stepped out with another bag, he was leaning against the side of her truck.

“Need some help?”

Willow tossed the second bag of grain. “I’ve got it. And I think it’s probably better if you give your shoulder a couple of weeks to heal.”

“Yeah, probably.” He moved away from her truck. “Willow, I’m not trying to take over or anything. Janie told me you might need some help around here, and I’m a pretty good hand. If you don’t need help…”

He tilted his head to one side, a soft look in eyes that were more the color of the ocean—gray with a hint of green—rather than just a shade of gray.

She shrugged. “A kid from down the road helps out sometimes. There are times when I can use more help.”

“Hey, that’s cool. I need to get work done on my own place, so I don’t want full-time work right now.” He moved away from her truck. “I wanted to see if you had some tools I could borrow.”

“Tools.”

He nodded. “To borrow.”

“Yes, I know, I heard.” She sighed, pushing down the insecurity his presence brought out in her. “Tell me what you need and I’ll find them for you.”

“It looks like rain, so I thought I’d pull a tarp over a section of the roof of my place. There are a couple of spots that look like they might leak.”

“How are you going to climb a ladder?”

“I can handle it.”

“I can give you a ride to your place.” Willow pointed to a toolbox in the corner of the feed room. “See if I have what you need.”

As he dug through the tools, she finished loading the grain. He stepped back out of the feed room and set the metal box in the back of her truck with a brown-paper bag of nails left over from one of her own repair jobs.

“You’ve done a lot with this place. When did you build this barn?” He leaned against the side of her truck, his baseball cap pushed back, giving her full view of his eyes. Eyes that flashed with a smile that for a moment put her at ease.

“I had the barn built two years ago. The fences—” white vinyl that always looked clean “—we put up last year.”

“It looks good.” He was smiling, and then he laughed a little. “Just seems like an odd choice.”

“White vinyl fences?” She smiled, because she knew what he meant. Some men had a problem, a hang-up, with a woman raising bucking bulls.

“No, you, here, raising bulls. I seem to remember that you grew up in Europe.”

That was part of the story. She didn’t feel the need to tell him everything. She closed the door to the feed room and turned to face him.

“I did, other than a few summer visits to see Janie, but I love living in the country. And I love raising these bulls.”

“I can help you feed before you run me over to my place.”

“If you want, you can help.” She walked to the driver’s side of the truck. When she got in, he was opening the door on the passenger’s side. “Did one of those guys drive your truck home this morning?”

“My neighbor, Jason Bradshaw’s sister, drove it home.”

She nodded, her gaze settling on his shoulder. “Do you need to see a doctor?”

“No, I know the drill. It’ll be sore a few days, and then it won’t.”

She shifted into first gear and eased away from the barn. Her bulls were in the field behind the building. She had smaller pens for her “problem children” and a pen for calves that were being weaned. The cows that were expecting she kept in the main pasture with her horses.

Brad had done one thing for her in their divorce that she hadn’t had in their marriage. He’d given her freedom in the form of a hefty divorce settlement. For the first time in her life she was her own person. Other than Janie’s motherly advice, no one told her what to do. Not anymore. No one made decisions for her.

There was no one to walk out on her.

“I’m impressed with what you’ve done here, but I guess I still don’t get it. You could have raised horses.”

“I could have done something safe?” She smiled at the hint of red coloring his cheeks. “Years ago I went to a bull ride with Aunt Janie. I’ve been hooked ever since. It just seemed like the right choice.”

It made her feel strong.

“It seems to fit you.”

She smiled at the compliment.

“Thank you.” She eased the truck through the gate of the first pen and stopped. “I’ll get in the back of the truck and feed, if you can drive? Just ease down this lane next to the fence and stop at the feeders.”

“I can do that.”

As she slid out of the truck, he moved across the seat behind the wheel. She climbed into the back of the truck and used a pocketknife to slit the top of a bag of grain. As the truck slowed and pulled close to the feeder, she dumped the grain and the cows trotted forward, ready for breakfast.

The rain started to fall just as they were finishing. Willow jumped down from the back of the truck and climbed into the passenger side. Rain dripped from her hat and she rubbed her arms to chase away the chill. Clint reached for the heater and turned it up a few degrees.

“Wow, this is going to be bad.” She looked up at the dark clouds rolling across the Oklahoma sky. “And you have a leaky roof.”

“I do at that.”

So softly spoken, she barely caught the words. For the past few months she’d been telling herself it was her imagination. But now she needed to face the truth. Words were fuzzy, and there were times that she couldn’t hear a conversation on her cell phone, or even a person at her side.

Progressive hearing loss, the doctor had told them so many years ago. In the beginning it had been so mild, no one noticed, not really. Sometimes kids don’t listen, that’s how they had interpreted her behavior.

Progressive, but for years the change had been gradual, nearly unnoticeable. Now the changes to her hearing were very noticeable.

Why now?

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, he was watching. Willow managed a smile and nodded in the direction of the house.

“We’ll go in and have a cup of tea with Janie. Maybe the rain will stop.”

“Sounds good.” He pulled the truck to a stop in front of the long, log-sided ranch house.

Rain poured down, drenching them as they hurried up the steps to the covered front porch. Janie opened the door, handing them each a towel.

“Dry your hair.”

Willow took off her hat and wiped her face and then ran the towel through her hair. “We were on our way to fix Clint’s roof.”

Thunder crashed and the rain shifted, blowing onto the porch. Janie opened the door and motioned them inside. With the rain hitting the metal roof of the porch, it was impossible to hear.

Inside the rain was muffled, and ceiling fans brushed cooler air through the room. Willow shivered again.

“Clint will have to stay in the foreman’s house.” Janie pointed for them to wipe their feet on the rug. “When it stops raining, Willow can take you over to get your stuff.”

“I have a house, Janie.”

“You can’t live in that place. The roof leaks, the porch is falling in and it’ll be weeks before the power company gets out to run new lines.” Janie shot Willow a look, one that made her wish she could glance away and not hear what her aunt was about to say. “Tell him to stay, Willow. You need the help, and he can’t live in that house.”

Willow sat down on the old church pew Janie had bought from an antique store. She kicked off her boots and slid them under the seat. Standing across from her, Clint held on to the door frame and pulled off his boots.

“The foreman’s house is in good shape. Janie even keeps it clean. The furniture isn’t the best…”

“I’m not worried about the furniture.”

Janie smiled. “There, it’s all settled.”

“Right.” Willow smiled, hoping that was a good enough answer. But it changed everything. It put Clint Cameron firmly in her life.

She followed her aunt into the kitchen, lured by the smell of coffee and something baking in the oven. Clint followed.

Janie continued to talk as she washed a few dishes. Willow poured herself a cup of coffee and listened, but she knew she was missing pieces of the conversation. The plan included Clint at the ranch in the foreman’s house, and Willow letting him help with the bulls, and with the driving when they went out of town.

Clint, his stance casual as he leaned against the kitchen counter, shot Willow an apologetic smile. When Janie turned away for a brief moment, he signed that he was sorry. And she didn’t know what to do with that gesture, that moment.

It wasn’t easy, to smile, to let it go. After all of this time, building a new life, his presence made her feel vulnerable, weak.

Weak in a way that settled in her knees and made her want to tell him secrets on a summer night. She sighed and walked out of the room, away from gray eyes that distracted and away from the memories of long-forgotten dreams.

Clint set his tea glass on the table. He didn’t want to follow Willow Michaels out the door, but he couldn’t let her walk away. This was the pattern of his life. There had been the cheerleader in high school who had been hiding abuse with a smile, and he’d found her crying. The girl down the road who had been planning to run away from home when she found out she was pregnant.

He followed Willow to the hall where she was putting her boots back on. She looked up, mascara smeared from the rain and her hair hanging over her shoulders, still damp. She smiled as he sat down next to her.

“I’m not trying to hijack your life.” He signed as he whispered, because he didn’t want Janie to overhear and misinterpret.

“I know.” She pulled on her second boot and sat back. “I just need for you to know that I’m not incapable of doing this by myself. I don’t mind you living here, or even helping out.”

“I know that.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to visit my dad. But I need to talk to you about something.”

“Follow me out to the barn. I need to check on a young bull that I have there. He has a cut on his leg. I think he got into some old barbed wire.”

He nodded and reached for his boots. As he put them on, Willow walked into the kitchen. He could hear her telling Janie that she was going to check on a bull, and then she’d drive him back to his place to get his truck.

A few minutes later they walked out the door. The sun was peeking out from behind clouds, and the rain had slowed to a mist. The breeze caught the sweet scent of wild roses, and it felt good to be home.

The dog, Bell, ran from the barn and circled them, stopping right in front of Willow before rolling over to have her belly rubbed. Willow leaned to pet the animal and then she turned her attention back to him.

“So, what did you need to talk about?”

“My nephews.”

“You have nephews?”

“Twins, they’re four years old.” He stopped, rubbing a shoulder that hurt like crazy, thanks to the rain and sleeping on the floor. “My sister is being sent to Iraq.”

“Clint, I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft, her accent something indiscernible with only a hint of Oklahoma.

“She wants me to take them while she’s gone.”

Her gaze drifted away from him, and she nodded. Shadows flickered in her eyes and he wondered what put them there? Him? The boys? Something from her own life? What made a woman like her give up everything and move to Oklahoma?

Maybe she’d found what she was looking for here, with Janie, and cattle? He could understand that. He’d lived in cities, small towns, and here, on land that had been in his family for nearly one hundred years. He preferred this place to any other.

“It won’t be easy,” she spoke in quiet tones, “for any of you.”

“No, it won’t. But I wanted to make sure it’s okay with you. Now there will be me and two little boys underfoot.”

She smiled. “Of course it’s okay. We’ll do whatever we can to help you out.”

“I appreciate that.” He headed for the barn, following her, and still wondering what had put the shadows in her eyes.

But he didn’t have time to think about it, to worry about it. He had to think about his dad, and now about Jenna and the boys.

Chapter Three

Clint walked through the halls of the nursing home, not at all soothed by the green walls that were probably meant to keep people calm. Even with his dad here and in bad health, Clint still felt like the kid that never knew what to expect. That came from years of conditioning. His dad had been the kind of drunk that could be happy and boisterous one minute, and angry enough to hurt someone the next.

As much as he wanted to convince himself that the past didn’t matter, it did. And forgiving mattered, too. Forgiving was something a person decided to do.

He’d made his decision a long time ago. He’d made his decision on his knees at the front of the little country church he’d gone to as a kid. He’d found faith, grabbing hold of promises that made sense when nothing else had.

But being back here brought back a ton of feelings, memories of being the kid in school who never had a new pair of jeans or a pair of shoes without holes. He’d always been the kid whose parents didn’t show up for programs or games.

He reminded himself that he wasn’t that kid. Not now. He had moved on. He had finished college. He had worked his way up in the sport of bull riding. He hadn’t made a lot of money, but at least he had something to show for his life.

His attention returned to the halls of the nursing home, sweet old people sitting in chairs next to the doors to their rooms, hoping that someone would stop and say hello. A few of them spoke, remembering him from a long time ago, or from his visit last week.

His own father sometimes remembered him, and sometimes didn’t.

“Well, there you are.” Today was a day his dad remembered.

“Dad, how are you?” Clint grabbed the handles of the wheel-chair and pushed his dad into the room.

“I didn’t say I wanted to come in here.”

“I don’t want to stand in the hall.” Clint sat on the bed with the quilted bedspread and raggedy stuffed elephant that one of Jenna’s boys had left for their granddad, even though their granddad rarely acknowledged their presence.

“So, did you find a job?” his dad quizzed as his trembling hand reached for a glass of water.

Clint picked up the glass and filled it from the pitcher on the table. He eased it into his dad’s hand. It was full and a little sloshed out. Clint wiped it up with a napkin and sat back down on the bed.

“I have a job. I’m a bull rider. And I’m going to work for Janie.”

“That old woman? Why would you work for her?”

Clint glanced out the small window that let in dim afternoon light shadowed by the dark clouds of another storm. He had to shrug off his dad’s comments, the same comments he’d always made about Janie.

There were questions Clint would like to ask now. Did his dad really dislike Janie, or was he just embarrassed that her money had put food on their table and clothes on their backs? He breathed deep and let go of the anger.

Too many years had gone by to remind his father of that time, and to hurt him with the truth that would have sounded like accusations. He stood and walked to the window. Behind him his dad coughed.

“I could use a drink.”

Clint shrugged but didn’t turn away from the window, and the view of someone’s hayfield. A tractor sat abandoned in the middle of the field, half the hay cut and the other half still standing. Something must have broken on the tractor. Not that it mattered. But for a moment he needed to think about something other than the past, and his dad still needing a drink, even with his liver failing.

“Where’s your sister? Is she home from school yet?”

His dad had slipped into the past, too.

Clint turned, shaking his head as he sat down on the bed. It was easy to forgive a man who was broken. The surprising thing was that he even felt compassion.

“Dad, Jenna is in Missouri. She’s going to Iraq.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She’s in the Army.” He took the water glass from his dad and set it on the table. “Dad, do you remember? Jenna is twenty-seven. She has two little boys.”

“She shouldn’t have had them without a father. She should have married that boy.”

“He didn’t ask.” Clint had to fight back a remaining shard of anger over that situation. The ramblings of an old man he could overlook. The past could be forgiven. His sister being hurt, that was something he still had to work on.

“What’s your sister going to do with those boys?”

“I’m going to take care of them.”

His dad laughed. “You? How are you going to take care of two little boys? Do you even have a job, other than working for Janie?”

“I’m helping her niece with the bucking bulls she raises.”

His dad’s eyes widened at that and then narrowed as he smiled. “Are you in love with her? I imagine she’s way out of your league.”

How could one conversation reduce him from grown man to a sixteen-year-old kid teaching the judge’s daughter to ride the horse she’d gotten for her birthday? Way out of your league must have been the statement that took him back.

“No, Dad, I’m not in love with Willow Michaels. She needs help, and I need a job.”

“I need to take a nap, and you need to find out why Jenna didn’t come home on the bus. She hasn’t even fed the chickens.”

“Okay, Dad, I’ll go check on her.” Clint stood, towering over his dad’s frail body. Before he left, he leaned and hugged the old man who had hurt them all so much.

Forgiving had been taken care of. Forgetting was getting easier.

Now he had to go home, to the foreman’s house and get it ready for the boys. He tried not to think about that house not being his, or about the home he’d grown up in not being a fit place for two boys.

As he climbed into his truck, he tried, but couldn’t quite block the thoughts returning, thoughts of Jenna leaving the boys. He tried not to think about her being gone for a year, and what could happen in that time. And he tried not to think about living a dirt trail away from Willow Michaels—who was way out of his league.

Six in the morning, Willow was barely awake, and as she glanced out the kitchen window she saw two little boys run across the lawn, heading toward the barn. Two days ago Clint had asked her if she would be okay with the twins living on the farm, and now they were here. She hadn’t thought about them being here so soon.

The bigger problem now was that the boys were running for the pen that held her big old bull, Dolly. She set her glass of water down on the counter and hurried for the front door. Janie, sitting in the living room, looked up from her Bible, brows raised over the top of her reading glasses.

“Is there a fire?”

“No, but there are two little boys heading for Dolly’s pen.”

Dolly was her first bull. At bull-riding events they called him Skewer, because it was easier on a cowboy’s ego to get thrown from a “Skewer” than a “Dolly.” Gentle or not, she didn’t want the two little boys in that pen.

As she ran across the lawn, she glanced toward the foreman’s house. A small sedan was parked out front, the same one she’d seen easing down the driveway yesterday. No one was outside. The boys, silvery-blond hair glinting in the sun, weren’t slowing down. They obviously had a plan they wanted to carry out before the adults realized they’d escaped.

Willow hurried after them, rocks biting into her bare feet. If she didn’t catch them in time…She shook off that thought, that image. She would get to them in time.

“Don’t go in there,” she shouted, cupping her mouth with her hands, hoping the words would carry and not get swept away on the early morning breeze.

The boys stopped, turning sun-browned faces in her direction, sweet faces with matching Kool-Aid mustaches. They were armed with paper airplanes and toy soldiers.

Willow’s heart ka-thumped against her ribs. Fear and remnants of loss got tangled inside her. She had to stop, take a deep breath, and move forward. The way she’d been moving forward for the last five years, one step at a time. Rebuilding her life.

The boys were watching her, waiting.

She reached them and they stared up at her. Their eyes were wide and gray, familiar because up close they looked a lot like Clint Cameron.

Their gazes shot past her. She turned as Clint and a young woman walked out of the foreman’s house. The two, brother and sister, paused on the front porch and then headed in her direction.

“Uh-oh,” one of the boys mumbled and his thumb went to his mouth.

“Don’t suck your thumb,” the other shoved him with his elbow, pushing him hard enough to knock the slighter-built of the two off-balance.

“You two do know that it isn’t safe to go in the barn or around the bulls, right?” Willow knelt in front of them, her heart catching.

They nodded. The smaller boy tried to hide the thumb in his mouth by covering it with his other hand. Their twin gazes slid from her face to something behind her. Clint?

She stood and turned, ready to greet him and his sister. The little boys scurried to the side of their mother, their hands reaching for hers.

“Clint.” Willow didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t know that she wanted to say more.

“Willow, these two rowdy guys are my nephews. This is my sister, Jenna.”

Jenna, brown hair streaked with blond highlights and petite frame clothed in shorts and a T-shirt, held out her hand. “Nice to meet you. And I’m really thankful to you for giving Clint a place to keep the boys.”

“You’re welcome, Jenna. We’re glad we can do it.”

Willow squatted to put herself at eye level with the two little boys, matching bookends with identical looks of sadness and fear. Their mother was leaving. Willow fought the urge to pull them close, to promise that everything would be okay.

She thought about her own fears, her own longings. It all paled in comparison to what this family was going through.

“My name is Willow. What are your names?”

“Timmy,” the bigger of the two pushed at his brother again, “and this is Davie.”

“David,” the boy mumbled, looking down at the ground.

Insecure? She understood insecure, and how it felt to not know where she was supposed to be, or what she should do.

Janie had joined them, and she was hugging Clint’s sister, holding her tight for a long minute while the boys held tight to their mother. When Janie turned back around, tears shimmered on the surface of her eyes.

“Jenna doesn’t have a thing to worry about, does she, Willow? We’ll be here to help Clint with the boys until she can make it home.”

Willow smiled at the boys again. Just little boys, and they were going to have to say goodbye to their mother. She’d been ten when her parents sent her away, forcing her to leave their home in Europe and attend a special school in the States.

She knew how hard it was to let go of what was familiar. She also knew that Jenna’s heart had to be breaking, because nothing hurt a mother worse than letting go of a child.

“Of course we’ll help.” Willow ignored Clint, because she couldn’t look into his eyes. She couldn’t acknowledge, not even to herself, how hard this was going to be.

Janie smiled, her brown eyes soft. Janie knew.

Time to escape. Willow ruffled the blond hair of the smaller boy, and he looked up at her, gray eyes seeking something, probably answers. She didn’t have any. She could pray, but a child didn’t want to hear that, because he wouldn’t understand what God could do. At his age, the little guy just wanted his mom to stay with him.

“I need to get my shoes and get some work done.” Willow smiled at Jenna, who seemed unsure and probably needed reassurance. “Don’t worry about the boys, or Clint. We have plenty of room here.”

“Thank you.” And then Jenna hugged her.

“I’m sure we’ll see you before you go.” Willow pulled away, from Jenna and the situation. “Boys, remember, stay out of the pens.”

Clint started to follow her, but she stopped him. “I can handle this. You spend time with your sister.”

“You’re sure?”

Positive. What she needed was time alone, to think about how her life had just changed. What she didn’t need was Clint Cameron invading space she had carved out for herself. And what she couldn’t do was look into his gray eyes, eyes like those of his nephews, but seeing so much more.

A few hours later Jenna drove down the road, and Clint could only pray that God would keep her safe. Janie had the boys, feeding them cookies and drying their tears. He was going in search of Willow to see if she needed help with anything, and knowing she would probably say that she didn’t. She had a way of handling things.

Country music blared from the office at the end of the barn. Clint peeked around the corner of the office door. She wasn’t there. An empty soda can sat on her desk, along with the wrapper from a chocolate bar, more than one. He smiled, thinking of her sitting there with music blaring, eating chocolate. What did that do for women?

So much for the calm, cool facade that she’d fooled them with in the bull-riding world. He now knew her weakness. Ms. Calm-Cool-and-Collected ate chocolate and didn’t like to share her personal space.

That knowledge didn’t help him out a bit. He was definitely in her personal space, and with no way out.

He found her in the arena, standing on a platform above a bull and strapping a training dummy to his back while she talked into the headset of her cell phone. Her brows drew together, and her lips tightened into a frown.

Obviously bad news.

He approached from her side, making sure she knew he was heading her way. She nodded and turned away, maybe to open the chute for the bull, maybe to avoid him. The gate on the chute opened, and the bull turned to face out, encouraged by the woman above his chute. A teenager, slight, and quick on his feet, stood in the arena, keeping the bull in a spin.

“Looks good. How old?” Clint leaned against the post next to Willow.

Her hand slid up her ear.

“I’m sorry?” She smiled.

“The bull looks good. How old is he?”

“He’s two. I’m not sure if he’s going to make it. He doesn’t like to buck.”

“Do you need my help? I can open the gate, strap on the dummy?”

A pointed look at his shoulder. “I don’t think you should.”

“Got it.” Help not needed. He had to find his place here. He had to apologize. “I’m sorry about the boys this morning.”

“They were being boys, Clint. They’re fine.” She leaned against the rail of the scaffolding next to the chute where the next bull was waiting. Her expression softened, because it was about two little boys. “How are they, though?”

“They’re okay.” He remembered their tears when Jenna left, and his own. They were all fine. And scared. “At least they’re here with me. We’ll get through.”

“If I can help…”

“You have.”

Another one of those looks he didn’t understand, and shadows in her blue eyes that could probably convince a man that she needed to be held. But he knew better than to step into her life. There was a world of difference between them.

She was designer clothes and gourmet meals. He was fast food and the clearance rack at Wal-Mart. And he liked his life. For the moment he looked a lot happier with this discount life than she looked with her top-drawer existence.

She turned away from him to watch the bull come out of the chute and then she shook her head. “Brian, run him through the gate, and we’ll get him something to eat. Bring Wooly in next.”

“Willow, if I’m going to live here, I really want to help out.”

“Have you been to the doctor yet?” She shot a pointed look at his shoulder, his arm still in a sling.

“Not yet. It’s an injury I’ve had before, and I know what to do.”

“So, you’ll be ready to ride bulls at the next event. Or are you going to call and let them know that you’ll be a no-show.”

“You know I can’t do that and stay on tour.”

“Then go to the doctor. If you can’t afford…”

“I can afford it.”

He sure didn’t need insults and charity.

“I’m sorry.” She picked up the training dummy that Brian had tossed onto the platform and leaned to put it on the new bull. “We’ll work together. I don’t know specific jobs to give you. I know each day what I need to get done. And if something unexpected comes up, I fit it into my schedule. I guess we start with you helping us with feeding time.”

Her phone rang and she smiled an apology and stepped away from him. At least now he knew how he stood, at the ranch, and in her world. He was one of the unexpected things she was fitting into her life.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.” Willow walked away, knowing that Clint wasn’t the kind of guy to purposely listen in on a conversation, but knowing that if he heard, he would have questions.

The caller on the other end apologized for the bad connection. She closed her eyes, wishing it really was a problem with the phone. But the bad connection had nothing to do with cell service.

She glanced in Clint’s direction and saw him talking to Brian. Distracted, she had to gather her thoughts and listen to the caller as he told her something about a bull she had for sale.

“Sir, could you call me back on my home phone? Or perhaps e-mail.” She held her breath, praying he’d say yes and wondering if God heard such selfish prayers.

It wasn’t selfish, not really. Because God did understand her fear. She’d talked to Him about it quite a bit lately.

“I’ll e-mail.” The caller came through clearly for a moment, and she thanked him. She needed a break, a real break, the kind that meant things going smoothly for a few days.

Just a few days, time to gather herself and figure out her next move. She turned, facing Brian and Clint with a smile that felt strong. But eye contact with Clint wasn’t helping her feel strong. It was the way his lips quirked in a half grin and lines crinkled around his eyes.

He had a toothpaste-commercial smile that could make a girl dream of moonlit nights and roses. She no longer had those dreams.

“Where are the boys?” Neutral ground that felt safe, safer than holding his gaze.

“Janie is fixing them grilled cheese for supper, after she’s already filled them up with cookies.” He leaned to hold the dummy for Brian. “We’re going to the chili supper and carnival at church tonight.”

“Yes, she told me. That’s a good way to distract the boys. The next few days are going to be hard for them.”

“She told me you’re not going.”

She wondered if he understood what it meant to invade someone’s personal space. It wasn’t always done physically. Sometimes it was done emotionally, with nosy questions and interference. Maybe he didn’t care?

“No, I’m not going.”

“Because…”

She stepped away from him. “Because I don’t like chili.”

Because she didn’t like crowded places with too many conversations, explanations for people who talked in quiet tones, and curious glances from those who saw the hearing aids.

She loved bull riding, where people respected her and curiosity didn’t matter, because she had proven herself. She loved her non-hearing friends in Tulsa, because with them she could be herself.

He didn’t appear to be giving up. He had stepped closer and wore a persuasive half grin. She remembered him smiling like that when she’d been thirteen and he’d only been a year or so older. She had dreamed of that smile for a long, long time, wondering what it would be like to fall in love with a cowboy.

She shook off the old memories and listened to what he was saying now. Now, sixteen years and several rejections later, her heart had been broken so many times it was held together with duct tape.

“Everyone likes chili. Or at least they like it when they know there will be dozens of desserts, and the money is going to help the church youth group.”

Willow liked arguing less than she liked chili. Worse than that, she disliked the feeling that someone was trying to make plans for her. “I’m not going, Clint. I’ll give you a check for the youth group.”

“Willow, I wasn’t trying…”

She sighed, because she knew that he wasn’t trying, that he hadn’t intended to take over. “I know you weren’t. Have a good time tonight. Make sure you guys close up and turn off the lights when you’re done in here.”

Clint reached for her arm, and she knew he wanted to say more. He didn’t. Instead he smiled and let his hand drop to his side, like he understood.

As she walked across the drive to the house she saw the boys through the window. They were so young, and so brave. Their mother was brave.

The warm smell of grilled cheese and fresh coffee greeted her as she walked through the door of the house. She kicked off her boots and headed for the kitchen, stockinged feet on hardwood.

The boys looked up from cups of tomato soup, red liquid dripping from their chins. She smiled, but she wanted to hug them tight. The little one, David, not Davie, gave her a tremulous smile that threaded its way into her heart. The bigger of the two, Timmy, just frowned.

“I heard that the two of you had cookies. Were they good?” Willow kneeled next to the table, putting herself at eye level with the two children.

They nodded and both took another bite of their sandwiches, dripping cheese as they pulled the bread away. Grilled cheese and tomato soup, Aunt Janie’s cure for everything, including broken hearts.

“Want something…” Janie’s words faded out as she moved away.

Willow turned, shooting her aunt a questioning gaze. The words had blended with the radio and the dishwasher’s low rumble.

“I’m sorry, Willow. Do you want to eat, or are you going with us?”

“I’ll eat with the boys.” Willow smiled at the two and stood up, her legs protesting her squatting next to the table.

“The boys are going with us.” Janie smiled. “But they don’t like chili.”

“I don’t blame them.”

Janie frowned. “It isn’t chili you’re avoiding, it’s people.”

“And lectures.”

Janie wiped wet hands on a kitchen towel, her frown growing. “Willow, are you okay?”

“Of course I am.”

The house vibrated with footsteps, heavy steps. Willow turned as Clint walked into the room, his wide smile directed at the boys.

Janie handed her a bowl, and Willow turned toward the table. Clint had taken a seat with the boys. He had a glass of iced tea and a cookie.

“You have a cow that’s about to have a calf,” he said after taking a drink of his tea.

“I know. I’ve been checking on her every few hours.”

“Is this her first calf?”

“Second.”

“She’s young.”

Willow exhaled and pretended she didn’t have an answer for that. He set his glass down and she looked up, knowing he wasn’t going to let it go.

“Yes, she’s young. The first time she got into the wrong pen.” She wouldn’t go further, not with two little boys at the table.

“Maybe I should stay home, in case she gets down on you. You might have to pull the calf.”

Like she didn’t know that. She gave him a pointed look and lifted a spoon of soup to her mouth. After taking a bite she set the spoon down.

“I can handle it, Clint. I know how to pull a calf. I know how to take care of my cows.”

“I was just offering.”

“If I can’t handle it, I have a good vet.” She took in a breath and smiled. “You need to take the boys to the carnival at church. I can handle this.”

He raised his hand and smiled. “Got it.”

Timmy laughed and David looked worried.

“Guys, don’t ever argue with a woman who has her mind made up.” Clint picked up a napkin and wiped grilled cheese crumbs off David’s chin.

Willow smiled, because how could she not? And when she looked up, he winked. Just like that, he undid everything.

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